


Already Home

by elleisforlovee



Series: Holiday 2019 Gift Fics [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Angst, Gen, Home Is Wherever I'm With You, holiday crack fic, home for the holidays, home to winterfell, this is a bit ridiculous but I apologize for nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21806872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleisforlovee/pseuds/elleisforlovee
Summary: Arya brings Gendry to Winterfell to spend Christmas with her family and finds the place she grew up in doesn’t feel like home anymore.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Holiday 2019 Gift Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571350
Comments: 61
Kudos: 160





	Already Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babyitsbeautiful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyitsbeautiful/gifts).



> This is an early Christmas gift for babyitsbeautiful. Holly, I do not deserve your support or the kind words or the ridiculously wonderful things you say about my stories but I'll take it because I adore you so ♥
> 
> **Author's Note: this has some crack!fic elements. Some characters are a bit exaggerated and I played with some ridiculous holiday tropes just because I can. This is far from my best piece of writing BUT it's almost 18K words so *shrugs*
> 
> Enjoy! xx

Amidst a cool blue morning stood Winterfell. Clouds hovered above the estate and in the distance, wisps of warm pink sky were highlighted by the rising sun. Winter, Gendry was finding, had all hours of the day seeming like night. It carried with it the warning of doom in the way his hometown of Flea Bottom never did. The sun hid all flaws there and convinced even the most cynical of citizens that tomorrow would come. Gendry wondered if the people in Winterfell ever had problems believing that. He knew he likely would if faced with the prospect of bitter cold each day.

The slam of the car door brought him out of his reverie. Across the hood of his car he saw only the top of Arya’s head and the way she craned her neck to show him her smile. Usually it was all the reassurance he needed but today Gendry felt powerless, wholly unprepared and filled with an immense amount of dread as he met Arya at the trunk and began to remove their bags. 

“What’s that face?” Arya joked as she nudged his hip with her own. She reached forward to grab for her backpack and tossed the strap over her shoulder. Her suitcase came next until finally she was standing proudly with her luggage, waiting for Gendry to remove the rest of his things. “I told you, it will all be fine.”

“Will it?” he chuckled, just before closing the trunk. Gendry placed a hand to Arya’s back and began to guide her up the snowy driveway. What was usually a sign of comfort now felt like a lifeline. Though it was hard to do because of his size, Gendry nearly hid behind Arya, allowing her to lead the way. Instead of taking her hand when he offered it, Gendry instead looked up to the house they were approaching. “This is insane.”

Arya turned around, showing him her rosy nose. “What is?”

“This...house?” his voice guessed. “Is this even a house? This is  _ one _ house?”

“Yes,” Arya breathed out a laugh. “This is one house. My family’s house. My home.”

“Fuckin’ hell…”

Arya smirked. “You have to remember that there were nine of us living here at one point. So all things considered—”

“Fuck no. This is a bloody big house for even nine people.”

They were on the porch now, their bags by their sides and the proof of their journey up the path now etched into the snow behind them. Arya’s shoulders dropped. “Well I can’t help where or how I grew up anymore than you can so…”

Gendry sighed. “You’re right. I’m just...I don’t know.”

“Making a joke because you’re nervous? Because that’s what you do?” Arya tried.

Gendry could only shrug. “Yeah. Maybe.” He sighed. “Probably.”

His defense mechanism was a familiar one, and like the home she stood in front of, Arya was warmed by it. She’d been a different person the last time she was here, just a girl coming off a gap year, heading to a university she was only mildly interested in attending. If it were up to Arya she would have kept traveling but several weeks into her classes, she found herself enjoying time on campus more than she expected. The friendship she built with Gendry was certainly the catalyst and soon the boy she had a crush on became the boy she was sleeping with then finally the boy she loved and was dating — her  _ boyfriend _ — a word that never seemed to fit before they met. They lived together now and Arya was blissfully happy. That was probably the biggest change; Arya wondered if her family would even recognize the woman she’d become.

“Do we knock?”

Arya blinked. She hadn’t realized that she had been staring at Gendry, admiring his clean shaven jawline and the haircut he’d received before coming. It was clear that this meant something to him, and that meant everything to Arya. 

“Uh, no. I have…” She took off her rucksack and jutted out her hip in an attempt to give the bag a shelf. It was useless. “Here,” she offered, handing Gendry the handle to her suitcase so she’d have better leverage to dig into the bag. It continued for what felt like an eternity, rummaging Gendry was mostly used to because her rucksack was far from the least organized part of their life.

“Why don’t we just—“

“Because I have a key, I just—“

Ultimately it didn’t matter. The door opened and a shocked Arya nearly dropped her bag. Gendry froze, his eyes darting between his girlfriend and the redhead that now stood inside. 

“Sansa!” Arya exclaimed.

“The motion sensors on the cameras are going nuts. I thought I had a package but apparently it’s just you.”

“I, uh...yup! Just me! I can’t find my key—“

“You could have just pulled into the garage,” Sansa deadpanned. 

“I didn’t bring my car so I don’t have my remote, I—“

“Oh, right. I forgot that you’re not used to driving in the snow anymore.”

“Uh, yeah,” Arya agreed, mostly to keep the peace. She took a step up into the home, leaving Gendry on the porch. She dropped her bag and moved to grab for her suitcase from Gendry. 

“Did you pay him?” Sansa whispered. Her glance had already run up and down the lines of Gendry once and were now about to do so again. 

Arya’s brow furrowed. “I...what?”

“Your driver.” She dipped her head in the direction of the porch. “Did you pay him?”

Arya registered Gendry’s chuckle and the way he shook his head, clearly not phased, as her own mortification set in. “I...Sansa, no…” she mollified scornfully. “This is Gendry.”

“Gendry?”

“I told everyone I was bringing a friend,” Arya reminded, her voice adamant, partially for Gendry’s benefit. 

“We thought...a female friend. You know...a  _ friend _ .”

Arya rolled her eyes. She grabbed for the lapel of Gendry’s jacket and pulled him inside, his broad shoulders and annoyed smile now contrasting with Sansa’s designer jeans and the meticulously decorated foyer they stood in. 

“Friends can be male,” Arya droned. 

“Can they though?” Sansa’s voice was sweet — too sweet — causing Arya to grimace. Even more of the Tully beauty had begun to settle into her sister’s complexion. Arya did her best not to notice, all of her thankful for Gendry’s oblivion, especially when standing at her side. It likely helped that he was equally miffed. If they’d been in any other situation, in any other place that didn’t mean so much to Arya, he would have already walked away.

“Sansa, I swear to god—“

“Mum!” the eldest Stark girl called out as she let the front door slam behind Arya and Gendry. “Arya’s here with a boy!”

Arya looked to Gendry, another plea of apology written across her face. Gendry gave a lopsided grin in return and waited. With an eye roll, she slipped out of her jacket, prompting Gendry to do the same. When Arya finally advanced he followed, trailing like a cloud that had not yet committed to rain. 

It was too many steps that separated the foyer from the rest of the home. The hallways were so large they required much more than artwork: console tables with flowers and the occasional leather chair or wooden bench. Gendry was almost made to laugh at each item when they passed; if they walked any further, he’d need to take advantage of the furniture and sit down.

In their life back in Harrenhal, Arya would have joined him in laughing but now she stood just a pace ahead, close and yet completely out of reach. It had been two years now and this girl that suddenly walked in front of him felt far more like a stranger leading him to the gallows than his best friend and it had a lot to do with the breaths of confidence that escaped her lungs with each step. Arya had been looking forward to returning home for the holiday and she’d told Gendry time and time again how excited she was for him to meet her family. It was as if the house they stood in and the snowy mountains that surrounded it had changed since she’d been here last; as if the new way her heart swelled in a place that was not home and for a boy that was not family had the naturescape she grew up in feeling very, very foreign. 

Finally the hallway opened up to a great room, floor to ceiling windows revealing the cluster of summits that originally hid behind the home as they approached. Glass marked the entire expanse of the great room where just outside a deck wrapped around the home’s first floor. It would have seemed excessive anywhere else, but Gendry found himself distracted by it all. It was almost as if Winterfell existed above it all, like it were truly were a castle perched on a cloud with the rest of the world existing mundanely below it. 

Gendry recognized the couple in the kitchen as Arya’s mother and father. He noted the way they each stood holding their respective porcelain mugs, talking in hushed tones like they too had secrets to keep in this place. 

“Hi Mum...Dad,” Arya greeted with an unsteady smile and shaking legs. 

They stopped laughing as the moment instantly demanded different things from them. With one last glance to her husband, Catelyn set down her cup of tea and walked toward Arya, leaving only the massive kitchen island between her and her daughter. Meanwhile Ned leaned back, looking suddenly relaxed as he sipped at his coffee. From behind his mug, Gendry saw him donate a smile in his direction. The action caused him to grin nervously. Gendry didn’t realize it had him also stepping into Arya, his hands seeking her out without his permission. 

“Mum, this is Gendry,” Arya attempted. She could barely look to her boyfriend. Her throat was too dry and she was solely focused on smiling. She’d gotten through so many parties as a young girl wearing the same expression.

Cat stepped forward once more. “Gendry?”

“Uh, yeah. My boyfriend.” 

From behind the stainless steel door of the refrigerator, Sansa snickered loudly. When she appeared again she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. Laughter still painted her cheeks and the look she gave Arya was an odd mixture of pity and shock. Gendry didn’t have siblings and standing between the pair now had him thankful for that.

“Sansa, be a lady, would you?” Cat requested.

“Yeah, can you get lost?” Arya tried similarly, but with a much different tone. 

“Arya!”

She rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder to Gendry but he was elsewhere: staring at the rafters that spanned the ceilings, matching the too-big doorframes they’d walked through as they passed from room to room. If they hadn’t stopped in the kitchen, Gendry imagined the house would have come to an end eventually, he just couldn’t see where from his position stuck in its center. 

“I’m waiting for Harry,” Sansa reminded her mother with doe-like eyes that asked for forgiveness.

“Wait in the living room,” Arya suggested. 

Next to her, Gendry glanced toward the space just beyond the kitchen where the biggest television he’d ever seen was mounted above a crackling fireplace. Comfy-looking sofas sat atop plush fur rugs staring up at the screen which was currently playing a home-improvement show Gendry caught Arya watching often.  _ Was that the living room they were referring to? _ Gendry stifled a laugh in his shoulder, assuming there were others. 

“Go, Sansa,” Cat dismissed, causing her eldest daughter to stalk off but not without giving Arya and Gendry one last glance. With her gone, Cat sighed. “Arya, you didn’t say...maybe we should discuss this alone?”

Instantly, Arya shook her head. “Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of Gendry.”

“Arya…”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Sansa!” Arya called out.

“What?” Sansa called back much too quickly.  _ One of those other living rooms must be fairly close by _ , Gendry thought, forcing him to hide the smirk that grew from his own joke. 

“Can you show Gendry where our bags go?” Arya yelled again.

“Our?” Catelyn balked. 

“Yes,  _ our _ bags, mother,” Arya repeated firmly. “You know... _ I _ brought bags.  _ Gendry _ brought bags.  _ We _ both brought bags so they’re  _ our _ bags.” 

Cat rolled her eyes. “If you think Gendry is sleeping in your room you are sorely mistaken, Arya!”

“Why not? We sleep together back in Harrenhal!” Her eyes widened as all of the truth fell from her mouth without warning. There was no safety-net to catch her words and they shattered on the floor like broken glass. 

“Bite your tongue, Arya!”

The pensive, almost terrified look Arya wore shifted to indifference, her smile like a white flag she’d once been so talented at waving. “I was going to wait to tell you all of this but I guess now is as good a time as any—” 

“Arya...” Ned warned. 

Instantly, the youngest Stark girl’s spine was straightened and she swallowed, averting her eyes from her father. Gendry was mesmerized by the exchange, his glance darting back and forth between Arya and Ned, causing a small grin to tug at his usually tight mouth, softening his jaw.

The simple call of Arya’s name was enough to remind Cat of all the conversations she and her husband had once had about their youngest daughter, and would clearly need to start having again. She sighed out. “Well I guess we can put him on the daybed in the study…” 

“Mum!” Arya whined. “Really?”

“Yes, really! You know the rules, Arya!”

“What about the guest room next to mine?”

“Harry will have that. Because Sansa told us she was bringing him and I’ve already prepared it,” she explained, twisting the proverbial knife. “The couch in your bedroom pulls out into a bed, Arya. When you said you were bringing a friend I thought they could sleep there or else I would have...oh dear…”

Gendry’s brow furrowed as a realization washed over the Stark matriarch. It was not the disagreement that existed between Cat and her daughter that had Cat stressed, but likely the thought that anyone would perceive her as a subpar host. 

“Then the guest room near—” 

Catelyn was already shaking her head. “That is being renovated so absolutely not.” 

Arya looked to Gendry, her eyes pleading for assistance while simultaneously accepting that there was absolutely nothing he could do. Realizing Gendry felt just as helpless, she turned back to her mother. “If you think Harry will actually be sleeping in the guest room, you’re delusional!”

“Speak for yourself!” Sansa called back, nearly revealing her position standing just beyond the fireplace wall.

“Stop eavesdropping!” Arya returned. Cat winced at the exchange, horrified to find her daughters yelling from room to room. She didn’t bother looking to her husband; over thirty years of marriage were enough for her to know that they more than disagreed on these things. 

“Can I at least show Gendry my room?”

“I suppose that will be fine. Door open though,” she reminded, her finger raised in warning.

Arya turned on her heel, spinning her body away from her parents and bringing Gendry with her. He went, so shocked by Arya’s almost-outburst that he didn’t even think to tell her mother that he enjoyed meeting her. 

Lying was never something Gendry excelled at.

“Nice seeing you, Gendry. Glad you could join us,” Ned called out, his hand raised in salutation, as Arya dragged her boyfriend from the room. The Stark patriarch’s mouth was twisted into a smile and it spread when the young couple finally departed. Somehow it only widened when his wife was standing before him, her hand pressed forcefully to his chest in an aggressive dismissal of his actions.

“Excuse me? Did...you knew she had a boyfriend? Ned! Were you going to tell me?” 

“Wasn’t my news to tell.” 

“Our daughter has a boyfriend and you didn’t want to tell me? How long have you known?” 

For a moment Eddard Stark contemplated a fib —  _ another _ fib. “A month.” 

“Ned!” 

“I surprised her for her birthday when I was in King’s Landing last month...Harrehal is only an hour train ride so I thought…” Ned nudged at his wife with his shoulder, moving past her, his coffee mug empty, but still clutched in his hand. “He’s a nice young man, Cat.”

She looked back to the where Arya and Gendry had stood as if contemplating her husband’s words. “He looks...simple.” 

He shook his head and placed the cup in the deep sink. It settled with an empty clink. “That’s probably the most ignorant thing you’ve ever said.” 

“Eddard!” Cat nearly stomped. “Please! Whose side are you on?” 

Ned’s response was a typical one; as usually he existed in complete contrast to his wife, wearing a smile and pracing a kiss to her temple. But then he walked away, the action just as customary.

“Ned! I asked you a question. Whose—“ 

He turned around then, still grinning. “Gendry’s.” 

~!~

Arya had dragged Gendry through more of the house: past a dining room with seating for eighteen and an office and a makeshift reading room, one that existed at the end of the hallway almost because there was space and no purpose with which to fill it. Finally they appeared at the bottom of a staircase: mahogany like the rest of the house’s accents and spiraling upward to what was at least two more floors. If Gendry had to guess, this was just one of many staircases. He was certain that the end of his stay here would have him being more confused by the house’s layout than if he’d never visited at all.

The grip Arya had on Gendry’s jacket shifted and somehow she ended up holding his hand rather tenderly despite her clear rage.

“Our bags…” Gendry tried, his thumb tossed over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we—”

“Pod,” Arya said, only confusing him more. The way her fingers laced in his went from lazy to taut as she began to ascend the staircase.

“Pod?”

“He’s my mother’s assistant.”

Gobsmacked, and almost perplexed by that fact, Gendry’s brow furrowed. “Your mother has an assistant?”

“Really, Gendry? After meeting that woman, that surprises you?”

“Well...no,” he figured. “But—”

“C’mon,” Arya insisted, her feet now light on the stairs as she took them much more quickly. Gendry’s stride made following her possible, even if he did so blindly. “We can talk once we’re upstairs. There’s more ears in this house than I’d care for and they always seem to be listening at the worst times…”

The staircase took them up to a floor flanked by a long carpeted runner. As they began to walk, much more leisurely now, Gendry noticed that each door they passed was a bedroom, different in color palette and furniture but somehow existing within the same aesthetic. 

“These are...bedrooms?”

Arya looked up, her eyes narrowing. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“They look like...it’s like a hotel. Yours can’t—”

“It is,” Arya insisted. Her words were like a promise because as she spoke them she began pulling Gendry toward one of the doors. Inside a king-sized bed marked the rest of the room in expensive greys and black. Arya’s fencing swords were hung neatly on the walls and on the nightstands on either side of her bed were photographs of her and her family. Like the rest of the bedrooms, a french door separated the warm room from the smoky mountaintops outside. 

“I’m sorry.”

Gendry looked up, realizing that he’d drifted off again. He shook his head. “I—”

“You can hate me. I hate me. I just…”

He sighed and took a step toward her. “You said you’d tell them, Arya. After your dad found out about us, you said—”

“I know!” she agreed, her voice begging him to believe her. “And I planned to! But then when I called here to tell my mum I’d be coming home for Christmas she started talking about how I need to be dating and—”

“And you didn’t think that was a perfect time to say...I don’t know,  _ I already have a boyfriend, mum _ ?  _ His name is Gendry _ ?”

“She wouldn’t…” Arya looked away, not toward the clouds and the cold outside but toward the carpet below. “I don’t like opinions. You know that.”

“No, you don’t like your mother’s opinion. Like the one she clearly has of me even though she doesn’t know me. I see how she looks at me, Arya. I’ve had people look at me like that my whole life and—“ 

“Gendry, please...please just...I’m sorry. You know how much this means to me...you being here. It’ll be fine.” 

He had to chuckle. “You don’t sound so convinced.” 

“I am. I promise.” Then: “I love you.”

“You think that can cure everything,” he dismissed with another breathy laugh. In a way, he did too, though he wasn’t currently in a position to tell her that. But that didn’t mean his heart didn’t stop every time he heard it. 

Arya stepped into Gendry then, her hips swaying only slightly until finally she was settled flush again him, with her arms wrapped lazily around his waist. “It can though, can’t it?” 

“Not everything.”

Arya leaned up and kissed him. It was chaste, a laughable contrast to the heated, hurried kisses they’d shared when they decided to pull off on the side of the road earlier after they’d silently decided that their roadtrip had kept that apart for too long. Soon though, their current kiss was more — still slow but languid in a way that had Gendry nearly moaning into Arya’s mouth. His hands, previously at his sides, drifted toward Arya’s body, needing to feel the heat of the skin beneath her shirt. 

She pulled away. “You sure about that?” Arya whispered, her hot breath landing on his ear, causing goosebumps on his arms and up his back. 

“You’re not playing fair.” 

Arya’s smirk spread to a knowing smile. “Say it back.” 

Meanwhile her hands slipped out of his back pockets and moved so it was just her fingertips dancing along the top of his belt. The worn leather was familiar beneath her touch and Gendry’s skin was like fire with her so close. She was ignited by her power, and hesitant to admit it. She merely smiled. 

“No.” 

“Gendry...” Those same tentative fingers curled around his belt, each one dipping into the waistband of his jeans causing her nails to tease his skin. His eyes closed in response and Arya waited, aroused by his contemplation: to give in or give up. 

“Arya?” 

Gendry’s eyes snapped open at the sound of company. Arya’s hands flew away from Gendry’s body as if she were suddenly burned by the heat of him. The answer was an easy one now as two boys stood at Arya’s bedroom door. The inhale both gave afforded Gendry a moment to identify them: Robb, her eldest brother, and his best friend. Gendry’s mind trailed off, angry at himself for not being able to remember the friend’s name. 

“Robb!” Arya let out, her voice forced like it had been when Sansa came to the door, but mostly because she’d been pulled out of a moment she so desperately wished to lose herself in. 

Even Gendry was warmed by the way Arya went to her brother and gave him a hug. Robb responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Arya and melting into her, beaming even as the two broke apart. Robb ignored Gendry and Gendry didn’t mind. The pause from scrutiny was a chance to recompose himself; Gendry also knew it was likely to be short lived.

“Theon!” Arya let out, her voice light again as she also wrapped him in an embrace. 

_ Theon. Fuck, that’s right _ , Gendry mused, as the conversation before him continued. He didn’t listen much, but instead watched Arya and how all of her seemed to be more relaxed talking to her brother and his best friend. Even standing in this room he didn’t think fit her, in the castle that raised her, he finally found her to be at ease — if only for a little while.

“Robb, this is Gendry,” Arya offered. She reached behind herself to grab for Gendry’s arm. He had no option but to step into the space she’d created, accepting now that this was how they’d spend their weekend: Arya manipulating him into different situations with different people, and him complying because it was easier than starting a fight. He couldn’t insist that he be himself here if Arya wasn’t afforded the same courtesy. Gendry also loved Arya, wholeheartedly, and he’d always do what she needed without much thought, even if it promoted his own discomfort.

“Uh, hey,” Gendry gave, extending his hand and responding to Robb’s firm handshake with force of his own. He felt the way the eldest Stark son looked him over before finally smiling.

“Hi. Arya said she was bringing a friend. I didn’t know—”

“Well now you do,” Arya insisted cheerily. “Gendry’s my boyfriend,” she repeated in nod to their most recent conversation. 

“Uh, great. That’s great,” Robb assured. His attempt at peace, and the way he was clearly battling his inner urge to hate Gendry on simple principle was overshadowed by the glare Theon wore, his eyes like daggers digging into Gendry without apology. 

“Right so, Talisa…”

Robb looked away from Gendry to nod at his sister. “Yeah. She’ll be here later.”

Arya brightened. “She’s…”

“Eight months along and very, very moody so—”

The smile Arya wore fell only slightly — only enough for Gendry to notice. He made a mental note to ask about it later, knowing already that it likely had to do with how much Arya constantly thought she was missing. It was a war Gendry watched Arya wage time and time again: her love of her independence (and of him) and the love she’d always have for the family she left behind in Winterfell. 

“So she won’t be participating in the snowball fight?”

“No,” Robb chuckled, “she won’t be. Pod said he’d join if we needed to balance out teams. I don’t know...we’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Arya softened. “We will.”

A pregnant pause had Theon finally tearing his eyes away from Gendry, then leaning into Robb to mutter something only he could hear.

“Uh, right, so we were going to head into town to hit up the liquor store...want anything?”

Before answering, Arya looked to Gendry. She raised her brows, essentially encouraging him to place an order but he shook his head like she assumed he would. His indifference and the sigh that came with it had Arya changing course as she turned back to Robb and Theon. 

“Uh, I’ve been really into Black IPAs lately. Do you think—”

“Shoot me a text with a few names and I’ll see what they have,” Robb insisted. “Uh, Gendry, it was nice to meet you, mate. Glad you could join us,” he gave firmly again, adding with it another handshake. Gendry was less nervous this time but still slightly perturbed by Theon’s stares. Even when the friend gave Gendry a handshake of his own, Gendry’s brow furrowed and he leaned back, no longer caring about hiding his irritation.

With the two gone, Gendry’s shoulders slumped. “What is his deal?”

Arya snickered. “Theon?”

“Uh, yeah. Robb was really cool, actually.”

“He just tries to be a part of the family and he thinks the way a big brother is supposed to act when they bring a boyfriend home is by making the boyfriend very, very uncomfortable.”

“Well mission accomplished. Bloody hell.” 

Arya giggled. “He means well. You’d like Theon, I think. A bit full of himself sometimes, but he’s mostly overcompensating. I don’t know why. Sometimes my mother is kinder to him than she is to Jon…”

Gendry winced. “Uh, yeah. Jon, right.”

“I told you, he’s going to love you! He’s the only one I care about enough to tell that you were coming with me. He already said that he was looking forward to meeting you. Actually…” Her voice trailed off as she pushed past Gendry in pursuit of the french doors he stood in front of. She opened one and moved to stand out on the terrace, looking down. Even with the sun peaking through the clouds, it was frigid to exist there without a proper coat. Gendry was struggling from his place at the door’s threshold, watching Arya shout down to the yard below.

“Rick! Where’s Jon?”

Gendry heard only a mumble, the wind taking the actual response with it. But he saw the way Arya’s shoulders shook, signifying that she understood. 

“Alright well tell him—” Her face lit up. “Oh, hey!”

This time Gendry did hear the response, and he recognized the voice as belonging to Arya’s cousin Jon. It had become a timbre he was quite used to. Arya spoke to Jon on the phone often. He was her lifeline to the world she left behind at Winterfell; it wasn’t at all lost on Gendry that Arya was most comforted by the information she gained from someone who considered himself an outsider.

“C’mon,” Arya said abruptly, as she pushed Gendry back into the room and closed the patio door behind her. 

Gendry watched, waiting as he’d already done so many times today, for further instructions. Once again Arya’s hand was in his and she was pulling him back out into the hallway toward the stairs. He said nothing, knowing any protest or question would be useless. Gendry assumed they were going to see Jon, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if they ran into someone else on the way. Suddenly being an only child, and more recently an orphan, was comforting. Even in this too-big house, Gendry felt suffocated.

~!~

Winterfell didn’t exist on a cloud. The great room with the kitchen and the ridiculously-sized television also wasn’t located on the first floor. In what any other house would consider a basement there was a game room, a theater, and another bar area. Gendry imagined that when summer did finally arrive the Winterfell, they’d open up the glass doors looking out onto the valley, and hold parties and maybe even some of the fundraisers Arya always told him about. He really couldn’t guess why else anyone would need this much space and he’d seen something similar on one of the episodes of the same home-improvement show Arya’s mother had been watching upstairs.

Before them, the yard remained flat before ultimately dropping off to a steep cliff. A tall, iron fence separated the home from the rocky earth below but kept the view open, never keeping the house or its occupants from remembering how isolated they were perched up atop a mountain. Arya swore that her family was constantly hosting functions for the town but from where he stood, Gendry had trouble believing it.

Amongst the snow there was a single, massive sycamore tree. Its grey trunk was mostly swallowed by the snow but its blood red leaves contrasted greatly with all the white. It stood proudly, watching over where two figures moved in the snow. As Arya and Gendry approached, Gendry recognized them as Jon and Rickon. Rickon was much taller, and had more mature features than was depicted in the photographs that littered the walls of their apartment back in Harrenhal. But Jon was the same, his curly black hair sticking out around the rim of his wool cap. Like Rickon, he wore a thick jacket and snow pants. Gendry imagined he wore boots too, but he couldn’t see them. The snow had his feet hidden, an unfortunate sign considering Gendry was about to stand on similar ground and had yet to put on the boots Arya insisted he purchase before their trip.

“Jon!” Arya screeched as she ran to her pseudo-brother and let him wrap her in a hug. Behind them, Rickon continued his task, packing snow into what looked like a makeshift wall. There were two of them, separated by forty or so meters and the imprints of all of Jon and Rickon’s work.

The cousins embraced for a long time, with Jon picking up Arya and swaying her slightly. She remained limp, her legs flung behind her like a little girl surrendering to the wind. When Jon put her down she continued to beam and in the time it took her to catch her breath she waved to Rickon, who continued his task off in the distance. 

“Right so, Jon, this is Gendry…” Arya reached behind herself to grab for Gendry, this time insisting on holding his hand. He extended the other in Jon’s direction, returning the handshake Jon offered and the smile he wore as well.

“Hey!”

“Hey,” Gendry breathed out, relieved.

“You’re from King’s Landing, right?”

“Uh, kind of,” Gendry shrugged. “Flea Bottom. It has kind of a different feel…”

Jon chuckled. “I’m familiar. It has that really great pub...oh, what is it called...um—”

“Gin Alley?” Arya guessed.

Jon lit up. “Yes! That’s it! Look at you knowing things…”

Arya grinned. “We’ve been a few times. I keep reminding Gendry the importance of going home,” she stated proudly.

Jon looked to Arya, then to Gendry, then back again. “How’s that worked for you? I mean, today in particular…”

Before Arya could answer, Gendry dropped her hand. She looked up, almost scared, but softened when he gave her a smile and explained that he was going to introduce himself to Rickon. Arya stared at Gendry’s back for many paces before realizing she was meant to be giving Jon an answer.

“I…” She finally looked back to her cousin. “Yeah, it hasn’t been great so far.” Arya gave a nervous laugh, one that had her stomach in knots.

“Bad?”

“Definitely not good.”

“How’d your mum take it?”

“About as well as you’d expect.”

“I told you, Arya—”

“I may have told her Gendry and I share a bed back in Harrenhal. Like, not exactly...not in those words. But she definitely knew what I meant. And it’s really not that scandalous. I wasn’t even implying anything, I just—”

“Arya!”

“What? You and Ygritte share a bed, don’t you?”

“Well, sure, but she still has her own flat. You didn’t tell her...does she know you live together?”

Arya rolled her lips inward and looked away. “Uh, no.”

“God, you’re the worst. You’re not making this easy on yourself!”

“I know, alright? It all just came out. You know she irritates me! She…”

Jon looked up, quirking a brow. “What?”

“It’s just…” Arya exhaled, causing her posture to slump. “Things are easier back at school. No opinions.”

Jon shrugged too. “That’s not the real world though. And if you love Gendry, maybe do him a favor and don’t keep him a secret?” 

“He didn’t want to let anyone know either!” 

“Yeah, because you were living together and he knew no one would approve. But bringing him home?” 

“Well he came!” 

“Exactly, Arya. He came. Because he loves you too.” 

Arya listened to Jon but she stared off at Gendry. Her boyfriend had somehow joined Rickon in building his wall. If Gendry was uncomfortable due to the cold, Arya couldn’t tell. He wore a wide smile and moved easily, clearly carrying on a conversation with the youngest Stark. Rickon was quiet, reserved, and others sometimes found his shy nature to be off-putting. It made sense that Gendry and he got along. It also made sense that Jon was the only brother helping him construct their wall for the snowball fight. 

“Yeah, he does…” 

~!~

“Is this okay?” 

Arya turned away from the mirror she stood in front of, smoothing down the front of a cashmere sweater she hadn’t worn in over a year. Her wardrobe at Winterfell was different than it was back in Harrenhal — less  _ her _ , Gendry deduced. Arya couldn’t disagree. 

Gendry stood at Arya’s bedroom door, dressed impeccably well in the outfit she’d chosen for him. At once Arya forgot about her own ensemble as she went to him. She unapologetically pressed her hands to his chest, using him as leverage to stand on her toes and kiss his cheek. 

“You look very handsome.”

Gendry grumbled. “I think I look ridiculous.”

Arya couldn’t deny that her boyfriend certainly looked more comfortable in his usual attire of jeans and a henley. In Harrenhal he wore sneakers or work-boots and the only reason he owned a suit was because he’d attended too many funerals in his life, and renting a suit became expensive. But simple grey slacks and a well-fitted black button-up fit him well. Somehow seeing him so well dressed had her wanting to take it all off...

“Don’t give me that look,” Gendry warned.

Arya shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Normally I like that look,” he pointed, “but I can’t do anything about that look right now and neither can you so keep your...faces, to yourself.” 

Arya giggled and pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. “I mean it,” she said when she pulled away, “you look great.”

“Well—”

“And thank you...for being here and for doing this. I know—”

“It’s fine, Arya,” Gendry sighed. “I just…” He took her hands and held them in his own. “I don’t want your parents and the rest of your family to like me if I’m not...me.” 

“You are you though. You’re just a heightened version of yourself. A better packaged version of the man I love.”

“How am I not supposed to take offense to that?”

“You’re not! My parents...I mean, if you look ridiculous than I do too,” she insisted, stepping back so he could see. Arya wore black jeans and boots with a heel. It wasn’t a complete divergence from her usual denim skinnies and sneakers, but it also wasn’t what she usually wore day-to-day back at university.

“Alright…” Gendry sighed. “I get it. I just...isn’t this exhausting? The smiling? The pretending?”

Arya didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Very.”

“Your dad seemed really cool when he visited a few months ago…”

“Right. And he is. But my dad’s not throwing this dinner, my mother is.” Gendry side-eyed her, only causing her to laugh. “They each have their domain. The kitchen and all of the entertaining...that’s my mother’s domain.”

“And the judging of boyfriends?”

“Also my mother’s domain.” Before Gendry could interject, Arya continued, her voice light. “But my dad really did like you. And that matters. That matters more than anything my mother or anyone else will say. He’s just not going to fall on a sword to make it known unless it’s absolutely necessary. So unless my mother lights you on fire, he probably won’t say anything. But I know. And now you know. And it’s important to me...very important. It’s high praise, I promise.”

Gendry swallowed. “That’s comforting...I guess.”

Arya snickered. “Aren’t boyfriends usually terrified of fathers? Isn’t that how that works? Shouldn’t you be relieved?”

“Yeah, I imagine that’s usually how this works.”

“Well then?”

“Your mother is fucking terrifying.” 

~!~

Gendry was grateful that the table was set when they arrived downstairs. He knew that if it wasn’t, he’d need to offer his assistance. What he didn’t know was where the fork and knife should be placed or how to properly fold a napkin. Arya looked to be just as thankful, and she gave Gendry one last smile before sitting down at the table. As Gendry settled into the seat by her side, one that thankfully put him between Arya and Jon, he noticed Robb pulling out Talisa’s chair then pushing it in behind her once she was settled. When Sansa and her boyfriend Harry arrived, he performed a similar task. It didn’t matter that Arya would actually contemplate murdering Gendry if he offered her the same courtesy; he still felt it was something he should have done, simply because everyone around him had.

When it was time to say a prayer before the meal, Gendry simply bowed his head. He only looked up when Arya placed her hand to his thigh and gave it a squeeze. It was encouragement enough for him to pick up his napkin and place it on his lap but he was still hesitant when they began passing the meal around. Gendry had never seen anything like it: such an array of food arranged so neatly. He doubted it tasted good. How could it, when so much care had clearly been donated elsewhere?

He was wrong. 

It was delicious — almost as good as some of the meals his mother used to make. He leaned over and whispered to Arya: “Did your mum make this?”

She wiped at her lips with her napkin and nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

Gendry shook his head. “Unreal.”

Arya smirked, stabbing at her prime rib with her fork. “Why? Because I can’t cook for shit?”

“You can…”

“Don’t lie.”

“That’s not why I’m surprised.”

“I know. I get it.” She paused. “Witches cook.” 

The grin they shared lasted for just a beat too long. When Arya was called on, it caused her to look up with shocked eyes. For a moment she’d forgotten she was at the dinner table with her family in Winterfell. 

“Arya, darling, how’s school?”

“Oh, uh...fine.”

Ned paused, letting his fork rest limply in his hand. “Fine?”

“It’s...fine.”

“Just fine?” he repeated.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Any idea what you want to major in yet?” Cat interjected. 

Gendry’s gaze ping-ponged between Arya and each of her parents. He felt helpless, wanting nothing more than to flee but feeling the inexplicable way propriety kept him stuck in his seat.

“Uh, nope. Not yet.”

Sansa looked up. “Isn’t there a deadline on that sort of thing? I mean, they can’t just give you a major in...general studies.”

“No, they can’t,” Arya bit back. “Maybe I should just become a Communications major. You didn’t seem to do much work at uni and it worked out for you...right, Sans?”

Sansa dropped her fork rather ceremoniously. As if he knew, Harry’s breath caught in his throat as his hand reached out to grip her wrist. He saw his girlfriend’s fury just a moment before it came, predicting it in the same way Arya somehow did, both of them powerless to stop it. 

“Yeah, it did. Very well, actually.” She picked up her fork again, signaling the possibility of moving on. Soon though, her wrist went limp. “What are you studying, Gendry?”

“Oh, I—”

“You do go to university, right?”

Gendry’s vision narrowed. “I used to, yeah.”

“Oh, so you graduated?” Sansa asked, her voice revealing that she was already apprised of the truth.

“No. I’m, uh, taking a break.”

Sansa paused. “A break?”

“Yeah, a break,” he repeated rather dryly. 

Arya sat forward and set her glass down with a pronounced thud. “What are you getting at, Sansa?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged. “I just have questions. Doesn’t anyone else have questions?” the redhead asked, now looking to the rest of the table as if a performer on a stage, looking for audience participation. The rest of the Stark family seemed just as apathetic to find themselves included. 

“Sansa…” Ned warned.

“Well she has a point, Ned,” Cat interjected. She was held a scoop of salad in her tongs, and she brought it to her plate as she continued to speak. “Arya, dear, you didn’t tell anyone about Gendry. I think it’s normal that your family would want to know about him.”

“I—”

Arya cut Gendry off. “Do you honestly think that is what she is doing, mother? Really? You think Sansa actually  _ cares _ about my boyfriend?”

“Why wouldn’t she? I do. I’m sure Gendry doesn’t mind telling us a bit about himself, right?”

Arya groaned and sat back. “Well it feels like an interrogation.”

“Darling, it’s not,” Cat soothed. She turned to look to Gendry then. “Gendry, what do your parents do?”

“Alright, you know what—”

“My mum was a secretary, ma’am.”

“Oh, is she retired?”

Arya nearly choked on a green bean. Before she could catch her breath and interject, Gendry smiled and answered. “No ma’am, she’s dead actually.”

All the color drained from the Stark matriarch’s face. “Oh, I’m...I am so sorry. I thought—”

“No, you didn’t,” Arya interjected. “You didn’t think—” 

“What does your father do?” Sansa persisted.

“Sans, I swear to—”

“I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know him.” With that Gendry returned to his food, making careful efforts to cut his meat quietly and quickly so he could then chew it slowly, all in hopes of passing the time. 

“Are we done?” Arya raged across the table. Everyone else’s passivity only heightened her tone. “Doesn’t anyone else have any news? Anything actually worth talking about?”

Ned put his beer down and fixed his posture. “Arya’s right. Robb, how’s the new office coming along?”

Ned could have been silent; the way he sat tall and wore a stoic grin told his family all they needed to know. The previous conversation was over and they were journeying on to a new topic. Any mention of previous arguments were grounds for qualification. It was as if Ned was a referee to a game Gendry assumed the Stark siblings, especially Arya and Sansa, had been playing their whole life. 

Of course Gendry was more than thankful for the reprieve. He once told Arya he could be anywhere with her and still be happy. Anywhere was currently a table with strangers and an abundance of awkward silence in an altogether foreign town.

~!~

After dinner they watched a movie. The large recliners set up in front of a projector allowed everyone to fit comfortably in the room. Arya dragged Gendry up to the last row, to where they’d be able to sit on a single recliner without feeling the glares from the rest of her family. Arya spent most of the movie running teasing fingers, featherlight, up and down Gendry’s leg. Eventually though she fell asleep and Gendry wished they had sat closer to the screen. This was what he wanted her family to see — how safe Arya felt with him, how she trusted him, and how he was the only person who could ever calm her down. 

But soon the movie reached an unceremonious end and the lights came on just as the projector clicked off. Gendry shifted and Arya stirred, blinking herself awake. She beamed, her smile and eyes lazy as she took Gendry in. This was how she’d been waking up for over two years now and she never tired of the view of him by her side. Soon though they were standing and shuffling out with everyone else. A chorus of “goodbyes” was given as all of the Starks trudged to their respective rooms. Arya walked Gendry toward a different wing and left him at the door to her father’s study with nothing other than a chaste kiss to the lips. It softened Gendry but the feeling was fleeting. In a blink she had disappeared, leaving him to a room he’d never been in, in a house with people that spent their day making him feel very, very unwelcome.

Inside Gendry clicked the door shut. Instantly he felt the chill of the drafty room but saw how the corner existed in a glow. His eyes scanned down, and he jumped back. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” 

Pod was kneeling before the fire, adding log after log atop carefully crumpled newspaper. A book of matches sat nearby, waiting to be struck. He laughed when he saw Gendry and apologized profusely but carried on with his task. “It gets cold in here. Miss Arya told me—”

“What?”

“She told me—”

“ _ Miss _ Arya?” Gendry repeated with a laugh. “Christ, that’s odd.” 

Pod paused, contemplating what it was Gendry was referring to, before eventually giving up and resuming his original explanation. “It gets cold in here so I’m starting a fire for you.”

“It’s fine,” Gendry grumbled. 

“What?” Pod called over his shoulder, clearly afraid he had offended Arya’s guest.

“I mean…” Gendry sighed and stepped toward Pod. “You can leave the wood. I can start my own fire, y’know?”

“Oh. I mean, of course, I just…”

“I’m...shit,” Gendry managed, now rubbing at his temples in self-admonishment. “Sorry. That’s your job.”

Pod grinned. “Yeah, mate. This is my job.”

Gendry turned to the daybed and saw that his suitcase was standing beside it. With it, a set of sheets and the fluffiest blanket Gendry had ever seen. The pillows that rested atop both items looked so white and pristine, Gendry wondered if they were new. He could only assume Pod delivered all of this as well.

“Uh...do you like working here?”

“Best job I’ve ever had.” 

“Isn’t it—”

“Hmm?” Pod stood now. As he slapped his hands together to rid them of their soot, Gendry saw the fire blazing in the hearth behind him. 

“I just didn’t know people still...had...hired help,” his voice settled, unsure of whether or not that was the correct term. 

“The rich ones do.” 

“Do they pay you well?” It just came out, and with it, a nervous laugh.

Pod chuckled too. “Extremely well. The Starks are the best family. Just really good people. I’m very lucky.” 

Gendry cracked a smile. “Oh. Good.”

More light filtered in as the same door Gendry entered revealed a fresh-faced Arya, her complexion illuminated by the crackling fire. She wore a bathrobe now and with her bare feet on the old hardwood floors Gendry wondered if she were cold. His eyes scanned back up her form and found her smile reassuring. He exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath.

“Thanks so much, Pod. I owe you.”

“No problem at all, Miss Arya. You know I miss having you around. Let me know if you need anything...you too, Gendry,” Pod added as he neared the door. 

Arya crossed in the other direction, the two essentially switching places. “Uh, lock the door on your way out, would you?”

Gendry swallowed and turned to Arya, a look of horror etched across his features. Before she could answer, Pod had exited and Arya’s instruction had been followed; the click of the door locking into place sent a chill over the room. Immediately Arya pressed her hands to Gendry’s shoulders and stood on her toes, hoping to capture his lips. Instead, he leaned back.

“He’ll say something.”

“He won’t”

“He’ll—” 

“Gendry,” Arya’s voice warned in whisper. He was silent then, giving Arya the perfect opportunity to seize his mouth with her own. He melted instantly, even moaning when she pulled away. “Relax,” Arya rasped against his lips, her eyes still closed.

It was as if he  _ needed _ her. Gendry’s hands found Arya quickly — cupping cheeks, grabbing hips — essentially dismissing his own fears with the same breath Arya had stolen from him. Each point of contact had Arya’s skin turning white under the pressure of Gendry’s touch. He did relax and somehow relaxing had both moving frantically, lungs heaving as mouths fell open in laughter between frenzied kisses. It was a shuffle, a dance of inhales and exhales, until finally Arya jumped up into Gendry’s arms. Effortlessly he caught her and instantly his strong hands were running up and down the length of her thighs. Gendry smiled into Arya’s neck while her lips adored every inch of the expanse between his ear and clavicle. 

“Missed you,” she mumbled, as if he needed to hear it — as if he didn’t know. Gendry grinned, his calloused hands still stroking her thighs. He was incapable of speech, especially when the grip Arya’s legs had around him tightened and she shifted up upon him. 

She needed him too. 

“I mean it,” she continued through ragged breaths. Still, she didn’t stop peppering kisses to his jaw. “I missed you. Missed this…”

Arya trusted Gendry to hold all of her weight and with her mouth stuck in distraction, she allowed her arms to ghost down his shoulders, keeping symmetry until they reached his wrists and let go. Without warning her touch returned like muscle memory seeking out an earlier moment: the one they’d been ready to lose themselves in before Robb and Theon had interrupted. She wasn’t tentative, or kind. Arya’s fingertips were bold, forfeiting the teasing she had done before, running the pads of her fingers along the thin leather of Gendry’s belt. This time her touch did not hesitate, but when her hands came into contact with the taut lines of Gendry’s abdomen, he recoiled, as if burned by fire.

“Fuck, Arya!”

“Shhhh,” she giggled. Her too-cold hands reached up to grasp his neck, the kiss she gave him thereafter a clear apology. “Sorry,” she mumbled before seizing his mouth again.

Gendry let his forehead fall to hers just as they pulled away. “Christ,” he retorted with a swollen mouth. “Your hands are like ice.”

Arya leaned back, if only to show Gendry the sly smile she wore. Anyone else would have diagnosed it as a girl playing coy but Gendry knew better. All was only confirmed when those same grey eyes fell heavy and dark. 

“Come warm me up then.” 

~!~

In another part of the house, metaphorical miles away, Ned Stark removed pillow after pillow from his bed, tossing them to the floor in a quiet rage. His wife stood in their en suite bathroom removing the jewelry she’d cloaked herself in before ultimately turning off the light and walking out to him. He saw her, all beauty and fine lines; every bit the woman he fell in love with so many years ago. 

With another toss of a pillow, he shook his head almost as if he were dismissing a mirage. “Was all of that necessary?”

Cat looked up, her eyes wide. “What?”

Ned sighed. “ _ What _ ? Really Cat? Gendry. I’m talking about the way you and Sansa—”

Catelyn joined her husband in removing pillows from her side of the bed. “Well I’m sorry, Ned, some of us haven’t met this boy before and we’re curious about who he is and—”

“No, you’re curious if he’s like us...because he certainly isn’t like anyone any of the kids have ever brought home.”

“Well no, he’s not. Arya’s always been a contrarian. Everyone else knows better.”

“Knows better?” He shook his head and sat down upon the edge of the bed. With his back to his wife he removed his watch and set it atop his nightstand. “He’s a good man. I told you that,” he miffed, tossing it over his shoulder like an insult.

“Well I don’t know that.”

“Well you should. I’m your husband. You may not know Gendry but you know me. You know I’m a good judge of character—”

“No, I know you give too many people the benefit of the doubt. You’re like Arya...your heart is too soft. There is something to be said for caution, Ned. It has gotten you in trouble more than once and sometimes I fear Arya is headed down the same path.”

“Excuse me?” he raged. Ned turned to Cat just as she was slipping beneath the covers. “I’m...those things have allowed me to keep Winterfell prospering. It’s a place people love to live and a place outsiders enjoy visiting. Thank god you’re not on the welcoming committee or they’d all go fleeing and my hard work would be for naught.”

“I am perfectly lovely—”

“When it benefits you.” Ned slipped beneath the covers too but left a considerable distance between his wife and himself. “But we’re not talking about the town or fundraisers or what anyone else anywhere in the world thinks of you. We’re talking about you and me and our family and the way our youngest daughter is clearly very, very in love.”

“If she were in love she would have told the rest of us.”

“Why? So you could react like this? She told me and Jon.”

“I figured he knew,” Cat hissed. 

“That’s not the point. The point is that she’s happy. In a way, Cat, I don’t blame her. I feared you’d react the way you did and I had to lie to Arya and pretend like you’d possibly be more accepting when I practically knew that wouldn’t be the case. But I like seeing my daughter happy. I think Gendry is a good man and I think they are good together. That is what a father should want for his daughter and if Arya’s happy then I’m happy for her.”

“Don’t act like that’s not what I want for Arya, Ned. I just struggle to understand how a boy who can’t even finish college—”

“Yes, let’s judge the kid with no parents for struggling.” Ned’s words dripped with sarcasm. “When I visited, Gendry was much more open with me than he was with you tonight. Probably because I didn’t turn the dinner table into a public execution. Financial aid is not enough to cover tuition and books. Add in rent and the fact that the boy has to eat...these things can be extremely costly. He’s taking off time so he can build up his funds so when he finally returns to his studies he’s not so worried about paying for everything that he can’t actually concentrate on his schoolwork. That’s very admirable, I’d say.”

“But don’t you worry, Ned?”

“No,” he rejected, a hand raised to show the finality of his words. “I don’t worry at all. Arya trusts him so I do too. I trust our daughter. I think you should too.” 

~!~

Downstairs Arya had pushed Gendry down onto the daybed, his broad frame leaning back to steady himself upon the mattress. He stared up at Arya with heavy eyes as she slowly undid the belt on her robe.

“Don’t laugh,” she instructed.

Gendry’s brow furrowed, challenging her words, but soon his mouth was falling open at the sight of Arya, not in her usual cotton boyshorts and cotton bra but in tight barely-there lingerie that seemed to only cover the very parts of her he wished to see. Even as the crackling fire painted her skin, she was pale, her milky skin a clear contrast to the black lace. Her chest was fuller and her stomach more defined as she tossed back her shoulders and breathed out. She was nervous, and Gendry could only let his smile grow.

“I mean, If you think it’s stupid then we can just take it off—“

He laughed then. “I mean, I’m not going to argue if you want to take it off but...wow.”

Arya blinked. “Wow  _ good  _ or wow  _ bad _ ?”

“Wow...just wow. But I don’t...we did Christmas gifts at home. I don’t-“

Arya stepped into the space provided by Gendry’s spread knees. “I know today has been horrible and tomorrow probably isn’t going to be much better and we’re here for almost a week so...”

His smile vanished just as quickly as it had been procured. “Oh.”

“What?”

Gendry rubbed at his temples and scoffed out a laugh. “Arya, I don’t...I mean, this is great...more than great, really,” he assured. “But you don’t have to fuck me because you feel bad.”

“I’m...what? I’m not!”

He quirked a brow. “No?”

“I just thought you might like...a blow job or something. As a thanks for putting up with my terrible family...”

“Yeah, well—“

Arya placed her hands to her hips. “Are you really going to turn down a blow job? I mean, really?”

“No...well, maybe yes! I don’t know! This just feels insane.”

“What?”

“The dressing up! The—“

“I knew it,” Arya huffed. “You think I look ridiculous.” She bent down to grab for her robe but before her fingers could come into contact with the plush fleece, Gendry was making her stand again. His hands were firm upon her, his eyes begging. 

“No, love, I don’t. At all. I think you look very, very fucking sexy,” he purred. “But I also think the blow job you gave me two nights ago where you were wearing my old uni shirt with the holes in it...that was sexy as hell too.”

“Gendry, please let me—“

“If you want to give me a blow job, I’m not going to complain. But I want you to do what you want to do because it’s what you want. We’ve...fuck, Arya, you’ve spent all day doing what they want. Just...let’s forget them for awhile. Just you and me, okay?”

His words were like a promise. Arya softened then, surrendering to his suggestion as she straddled his lap. Her mouth was on him again, breathing him in, marking his own skin with the heat of her breath. “On or off?” she asked, her eyes darting to the lace then back up again.

Gendry couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Whatever you want...”

His head rolled back as Arya began her attack again, her lips more concentrated now, her tongue making an appearance as it dragged down the length of him, stopping to suck and mark his muscles only occasionally. Removing his shirt was easy, but even that was a painstakingly slow task. Arya took just as much time lowering the zipper of his trousers, her now-warm hands careful not to touch him right where he wished to be touched. All the while he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, not wanting to break the eye contact she offered as she knelt before him and continued to disrobe him. 

Gendry was bare soon. Arya felt less naked, a fact that was helped by the way his gaze seemed to say all his mouth couldn’t: 

_ You’re beautiful.  _

_ Fuck, I’m lucky.  _

_ I love you.  _

Gendry was afraid to speak. Arya was teasing him with her touch and for as much as he wished for her to just do what she said she would, he also loved the way the heat in his belly grew as her fingernails scratched ever so gently upon his thighs — back and forth and back again. He felt her breath on his cock and he was nearly hard by the time she finally reached out to grab ahold of his length. Arya touched only the tip of her tongue to the underside of his cockhead, the sensation enough to have Gendry’s hips nearly coming off the bed. 

Arya giggled, the sound an utter distraction making the way she took him in her mouth the most pleasant of surprises. Gendry’s eyes clamped shut as he felt her warm lips wrap around him, taking as much of him in her her mouth as she could. Meanwhile her wrists rolled, circling, teasing the rest of his length as if he needed more convincing. 

Gendry leaned back again, surrendering to the heat of Arya’s tongue and the way she stared up at him with heavy-lidded eyes through each ministration. He wanted to keep his eyes open and maintain that connection but the sensations of her adoring him had his head thrown back, causing him to see only white.

It was courage and perhaps a bit of self-control, that had Gendry forcing his eyes open. Arya had developed a rhythm and had stopped only to catch her breath. The force with which she gripped his cock and the way her lips seemed to know the exact pressure he craved was enough to send him over the edge and Arya must have known this — because  _ of course she did _ — because she had him edging. Gendry would have been angry if the frustration she was provoking within him wasn’t also so delicious. 

As Arya’s hands continued to stroke up and down the rock hard length of him she took one ball in her mouth, sucking, then replacing it with the other. Still she stared, knowing the way she clearly craved for him to see her, was flushing her skin and sending wet heat surging to her core. He wondered if there was evidence of her arousal peeking through the lace she wore, just as his own had her chin and cheeks glistening. 

When Arya’s mouth returned to his cock, swirling around its head before running flat from base to tip, Gendry leaned forward. He was able to steady his lungs for just enough time to make sure she was okay. He made quick but gentle work of moving her hair out of the way, not only so he could see her better but so she was more comfortable. Of course he couldn’t help the way his caresses eventually turned selfish. Gendry wanted to touch Arya, to give that energy back to her. It had his hips bucking up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, as he even contemplating running his fingers upon the pebbled peaks of her chest. The vision of it was enough so when he was finally brave enough to let his hands wander, Gendry nearly came undone in Arya’s mouth.

It was as if she knew because Arya slinked her arms out of the tight straps of her bra and pushed the lace down to reveal her pert chest. Gendry was relieved, wanting to bring her the same ecstasy she was stoking within him. Behind them the fire crackled and spit, encouraging Arya to speed up her ministrations. Her mouth was so incredibly wet, saliva mixed with pre-cum causing his cock to sheen even when Arya removed her mouth. 

A single spurt of cum shot out, landing on her chest. It was a challenge, as Arya took Gendry’s length in her mouth once more, milking him through his climax. She swallowed, and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. She wore a wide proud smile as her hands continued to run up and down his length until she was sure he was empty. Gendry’s hands gripped the soft cushions he sat upon, seeking a different kind of release but finding only pleasure. His moans filled the air while he continued to come, now on her chest. When his chest stopped heaving and he was finally able to open his eyes Gendry saw Arya pressing her forefinger to her clavicle before licking the pearly taste of him from her fingertips. 

He swore he’d come undone again if he had anything left to give. 

“Fuck…” he mumbled, adding with it a laugh. He still couldn’t breathe or even think. He felt only love for Arya as his skin continued to tingle, all of him now wanting her in different ways.

Gendry helped Arya stand and watched as she tossed off her bra completely. It landed in disregard for the room they existed in — her father’s study — now smelling of unfinished desire. Arya padded toward her father’s desk wearing only a lace thong. Gendry hadn’t realized it before but he saw it now. As he admired the globes of her ass he realized it wouldn’t take much for him to rip the fabric off her hips. If he wanted, it was likely he could even tear the lace, rendering the garment useless. But he waited instead, watching as Arya pressed a tissue to her gleaming chest in an attempt to remove the rest of his lust from her skin. It was a task she seemed all too happy to do and when she was done she came back to Gendry wearing a smile that told only of love. She pecked his lips then detached before crawling into the space behind him on the daybed. She laid on her stomach and waited, her features still marked by the bright smile she wore.

Gendry was clearly confused. “Arya?”

She raised her hips from the mattress and wiggled her ass in the air. The action had her face pressed further into the pillow, her hair splayed out behind her. “C’mon,” she urged.

“I...”

Arya’s giggle was muffled by the pillow. “Are you going to talk or are you going to fuck me?”

Somehow, Gendry was stiff again, his erection almost painful as he repositioned himself behind her. It was his turn to kneel, his turn for his hands to stroke up and down his own length. As his eyes drank in this view of Arya he licked his lips. On his hands he used the beads of pre-cum to lubricate his actions — up and down, up and down. Those same fingers applied a similar pressure when he reached out to touch Arya. He moved the lace aside to feel her cunt, to sense how much she wanted him. She was sopping and Gendry nearly buried himself in her right then. With just an ounce of control left he removed her underwear, ripping the delicate fabric without apology. He tossed it aside, not really caring where it landed. He had Arya pressed into the mattress, already gripping the pillow she laid upon as if expecting the way he’d soon fill her up. 

It was never enough. No planning or fantasy compared or prepared Arya for Gendry’s cock sliding into her ever so slowly. The angle was unbearable in the best way and when he pulled out, she sighed, only to cry out when he slammed back into her. 

“Tease...” Arya somehow managed.

Gendry covered her body with his and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “What was that?”

“Tea—“ 

She couldn’t get it out. Gendry entered her, a shallow thrust then another before his hands gripped the soft flesh of her hips and created a rhythm. He tossed his head back, loving the way Arya had to drop her head down and simply clutch the cushions then the arm of the daybed, needing some sort of release as he continued to pound into her. 

Gendry felt the way Arya rocked beneath him and how her inability to see him had her feeling uneasy. But she trusted him and somehow that was more sexy than the lingerie she’d worn for him or the way she loved his cock on her knees. 

“Turn over,” he bossed, removing his cock from her wet core as if the directive weren’t his own. 

Arya managed to open her eyes. “What?”

Gendry sat back and began to stroke himself again. “Turn over. I want to see you.”

With a line etched into her forehead, Arya complied. On her back she released a steady exhale through a mouth that was disciplined into an O-shape. She allowed her legs to fall open, revealing her cunt to Gendry, hesitantly and yet proudly, all at the same time. The pretty pink lips of her sex glistened with the mixture of them and while Gendry was patient again when he first thrust up into her, she didn’t allow him to be as gentle the longer it continued. 

“Fuck, wanted you so bad today...” she moaned loudly.

“What? Why did...” Gendry couldn’t catch his breath. 

“I know how hard you’re trying,” Arya somehow managed. “I know all of this sucks. If just means a lot to me and...” Her eyes rolled back into her head as the tip of Gendry’s cock teased her most sensitive spot. “Fuck, Gendry...godddddd,” she keened.

Gendry removed her hands from his arms and pressed them into the space on either side of her head. Arya was excited by his actions and began to meet him thrust for thrust, allowing him to fill her more deeply with each roll of his hips. There was laughter and finally bated breath as they attempted to share what were ultimately very sloppy kisses. Both were wet and sticky even before they reached climax and lost control. Neither knew about the world around them, they felt only each other and the way bliss overcame them as their hips slowed down but continued to meet ever so gently until their waves of pleasure finally passed. 

Limp, and exhausted, Gendry mustered enough energy to fall into the space beside Arya. She went to him immediately, wrapping up into his side, pressing a kiss to his neck that asked that he never leave her. Such a thing seemed impossible after what they’d just shared, the aftershock making each brush of skin feel electric. 

“I love you,” he praised with a kiss to Arya’s forehead.

“Cute,” she chuckled in response.

“No, I do...” He gripped her chin and asked that she look to him. “Fuck, do I love you,” he swore before placing a strong kiss to her swollen lips. 

Together they stared up at the ceiling. The fire had died down to merely ember now, basking the room in a barely-there glow. Neither needed its warmth or its light and soon it would die out completely and the pair would be forced to move so they could share warmth beneath the plush blanket that had fallen to the floor during their lovemaking. 

“God, you’re so loud,” Gendry cut in with a laugh.

Arya pinched his side and bit his shoulder. “Meh, it’s a big house.” 

“What if—“ His voice was suddenly serious, the weight of it revealing a terror within him, as if them being found out would erase everything they’d just shared. In a way, that was how Gendry felt. Being here, especially experiencing something so unbelievably beautiful after such a trying day, had Gendry wondering and sometimes even believing that all of this was temporary. Even with Arya wrapped up in him, his heart ached with the thought.

“Gendry?” she interrupted.

“Yeah?” 

“Relax,” she reminded. 

Arya then placed her cheek to his chest and breathed out. It was  _ I love you _ and  _ Goodnight _ at the same time.

~!~

It was early — too early — but not so early that Gendry didn’t feel the way Arya detached from him and dragged herself out of bed. It also wasn’t so early that he couldn’t turn over to watch her bare backside walk away from him, the curve of her tits teasing as she bent down to pick up her things. Arya didn’t get dressed right away. She walked to the fire instead, and tossed her rip panties atop the pile of soot. Naked and unapologetic amongst the early morning chill, Arya knelt down and lit a piece of newspaper on fire, tossing it atop the hearth until the ash ignited again. With a smug smile she walked back toward Gendry and kissed his cheek. Only then did she dress, wrapping her robe tight around her waist. She tossed her bra, deliberately hitting Gendry in the face. Just as he removed the garment and let out a laugh, he saw Arya slip out the door, taking all of his comfort with her. He sighed and turned over, missing everything they’d shared as if it had been a dream.

Arya tiptoed out of the room. The way Pod had locked the door the night before would have been more obvious so early in the morning. Already she smelled coffee wafting down from the kitchen an entire floor above but Arya also sensed how still and quiet everything was. For a moment she lost herself in it - the peace that came with lack of judgement. It was almost as wonderful as the bed she’d shared with Gendry the night before.

Turning around, Arya’s smile fell, the contrast and clear loss of hope the only indication that she’d been grinning in the first place. 

Sansa and Harry were coming down the hall, both dressed in workout gear and just the right amount of tight fleece to protect them from the early morning elements that would surely pester them on their run. 

Even with great distance separating them, Arya heard the way Sansa’s laugh echoed. The youngest Stark girl didn’t move as her sister approached. In fact, her hand remained on the doorknob. It was an attempt at protecting Gendry and all they’d shared in the study, and also a nod toward the escape she wished to make. Arya remained frozen in place instead, the chill off the hardwood floors bringing goosebumps to her bare legs.

“Oh, this is gold,” Sansa commented.

Arya rolled her eyes and walked toward the couple. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sansa snickered. “I’m so sure.”

With total disregard, Arya pushed past Sansa, nudging her rather roughly with her shoulder as she did so. Sansa yelped, more offended than pained, as she watched Arya stalk away.

“If you’re going to break the rules, at least be good at it.”

“Piss off, Sansa!” Arya called out. She didn’t bother turning to look at her sister. Arya didn’t need her to see the look on her face or witness the way her hands were curled into fists. She concentrated only on the memories of her night and, as more of an afterthought, how she really needed to return to her bedroom and dress before she ran into anyone else. 

~!~

Arya dragged Gendry into town, insisting on showing him all the places she frequented as a little girl and her favorite coffee shop. Even after two cappuccinos, Gendry’s stomach growled, prompting Arya to remind him yet again that they’d be having brunch soon.

_ “Brunch is for rich people.” _

_ Arya blinked. “Well…” _

_ He had to laugh. “If the shoe fits, right?” _

It was all so ridiculous to him. Gendry didn’t understand how people with money somehow had so much free time. Brunch was also an outlandish concept, but Gendry kept quiet, deciding he couldn’t truly argue against any event that allowed him to drink alcohol before noon.

Afterward everyone dispersed, returning to their respective rooms to “suit up”. This was what Gendry had been prepared for, and had been mentally preparing himself for, since before they left Harrenhal: the annual Stark sibling snowball fight. It was what prompted Jon and Rickon to build their respective snow walls, structures that each family member had added on to throughout the weekend. Bran had even added a window to his wall, something the siblings animatedly argued about during brunch while Gendry continued to sip his morning mule. 

Arya dragged Gendry (and the bag of new snow gear they’d purchased before arriving) up to her room. He went to the bathroom to change and was almost embarrassed to walk back to Arya’s bedroom. Mentally he added  _ actively choosing to live in cold climates _ to the list of things he didn’t think he’d ever understand. 

“Can we please get outside?” Gendry groaned. “I’m already hot in all of this.” Arya turned around to look at him and laughed. “Arya! It’s not funny!”

She went to him. “I’m laughing because I think you do look hot.”

“Really?” Gendry balked. “In all of this...these layers?”

Arya kissed him quickly. “Yes. Anytime you do anything for me that I know you’d rather not do, I find it very, very sexy…” she whispered, her breath hot on his ear. 

In any other dimension the two would have lost themselves in a fury of hands and tongues but the sound of a whistle echoed through the hall and then footsteps could be heard on the staircase, pulling them away from any hopes of a private moment. 

Outside, Rickon and Bran were already pelting one another with snowballs as they waited for their older siblings to arrive. Ned and Catelyn sat atop the balcony overlooking the playing field with steam rising off their cups of freshly poured coffee. When they emerged, Gendry found that Arya hadn’t lied to him; everyone was dressed similarly in snow pants and brightly colored jackets made of water-resistant material. Snowboarding goggles, like the ones Arya suggested Gendry wear, rested on the foreheads or around the necks of everyone, even Sansa. Somehow the boy least prepared for the elements had far too much skin showing. 

“Arya…” 

Gendry had stopped walking and when Arya turned back to see him no longer at her side, her grin fell. “Gendry?”

“I can’t do this.”

“What? Don’t be silly! This all requires very little talent. Jon has already packed most of the snowballs. We’re allowed two-hundred to start and we agreed we’d give you most of them—”

“See! There! That statement! You all take this very seriously and up until a few days ago, I’d never seen this much snow in my life. I’m going to make us lose.”

Arya went to him. “Gendry, it’s not about who wins! It’s just fun.”

Gendry looked over her shoulder to where an animated discussion over newly instituted rules was already beginning. “Are you sure? Because it seems—”

“I’m positive!” 

He couldn’t argue her. Gendry also knew that to dig his heels in at this point would only complicate things; he imagined bowing out at the last minute would be just as bad as refusing to participate in the first place. 

“Alright,” Gendry huffed. Arya took his hand in hers, layers of gloves separating the warmth of her fingers he’d always expected. Together they trudged through the snow and when they presented themselves to the rest of the Starks, Arya wore a bright smile. She was right: Gendry would do anything for her, even if it made him uncomfortable. 

~!~

“Gendry! Gendry! Come back here!”

“Fuck off, Arry,” he tossed over his shoulder as he continued through the empty house. His boots left a trail of water in his wake. Gendry was so snow-covered his jacket and gloves were still dripping by the time he reached Arya’s bedroom. Instantly he began tossing off each restricting item, revealing angry-looking pink skin beneath. 

“Gendry!” An out-of-breath Arya appeared in the doorway still wearing her snow gear. She was less wet than he was. In fact, when she took off her gloves and tossed down her hat, she looked just as beautiful as she had that morning at brunch.

“What?” he snapped. 

“I...are you okay?”

“Do I look okay, Arya? That was brutal!”

“I—”

“No! You don’t get to convince me it wasn’t. Everyone ganged up on me!”

“Well...I mean, you should have worn the goggles. I told you to—”

“Fuck the goggles! I could have been in a bubble and they all still would have found a way to attack me. That was personal and you can’t tell me it wasn’t.”

Arya sighed, even attempting to reach out for her boyfriend. But he was too far away, already walking down the long hallway leading away from her room. Arya was hesitant to even follow him but she persisted, maintaining just enough space between her and Gendry so he wouldn’t push her away completely. He even allowed her to follow him into the bathroom, and didn’t argue when she locked the door and stood silent, watching him undress. 

Each article of clothing was tossed down to the ground, revealing more of the crimson colored skin Arya feared. Everyone had been aggressive when it came to Gendry, at one point even pausing the game until he was brave enough to resurface. At one point Robb, Sansa, and Theon aimed for him all at once, each snowball somehow landing in the space left vacant by his lack of snow-goggles. He’d been hit so many times the scarf he wore was wet and itchy. His nose was running and his eyes were watering and Gendry couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so miserable. 

The scalding hot water was like needles on his skin, turning his scarlet complexion to a deeper hue as his body sought equilibrium. Gendry was so angry he wasn’t as pained as he likely should have been. He just rubbed at his skin, hoping to rid it of the uncomfortable chill that had settled in several days ago and only disappeared briefly the night before when he and Arya had made love. 

Steam continued to rise and soon Arya smelled Gendry’s body wash wafting over the glass door. She saw only his silhouette through the clouded glass but admired how he moved just the same. Already she had opened her mouth too many times, ready to say whatever would alleviate the tension in the room but finding the silence fit the mood better.

Finally: “I’m...I’m sorry.” It was all she could manage. She prayed it was enough, simultaneously knowing it wouldn’t be. 

“You should be.”

Arya sighed. “You...want me to come in?”

Through the glass, Arya witnessed Gendry’s body still. “No! God, Arya! Can we please focus on making all of this better instead of worse?” 

“I’m sorry.” Then: “Maybe this was a bad idea.” An answer didn’t follow, prompting Arya to look up to him. She expected to see him frozen again but he carried on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Gendry?” 

“I’m thinking.” 

“Okay, well—“ 

“Just stay there, alright?” 

Arya didn’t know how much time lapsed. It could have been two minutes or ten and she passed the time biting at her lip, manipulating the skin while her eyes were donated to the tile below. On any other day, she’d tell Gendry how the floors were heated so when he finally stepped out the plush bath mat would be warm under his feet, but here she didn’t want any reminders of how different this world was and how, despite her best efforts, he was still an outlier in it.

“Towel?” The silence continued. “Arya?”

She looked up, realizing only then that she’d spaced out completely. Gendry’s hand was reaching over the glass doors and the shower had been turned off, causing the steam surrounding him to rise and disappear. Arya jumped down from the vanity and walked to the closet to retrieve a towel. She forfeited the option she would have preferred: a towel from the warmer just outside the shower.

“Here,” she offered, somehow wishing she didn’t have to speak. Arya didn’t want to make things worse but she was at a loss for how to make them better. So she existed in the nothingness, waiting for Gendry to take control. The silence continued for several more minutes until he finally stepped out of the shower, the towel around his waist rolled in a way that normally would have been far too distracting. Arya was already distracted and when she looked up to Gendry, her eyes were wide and innocent. In fact, Gendry thought she might start crying.

He sighed and went to her. “Coming here...it wasn’t a bad idea. I came because I know what this means to you. It’s just hard because I know how you feel about your family and I don’t know where I fit into all of it.” 

“What? Gendry...” 

“I don’t know if I can ever see them liking me the way they love you. And I don’t want to make things hard for you.” 

“Gendry, stop alright? You make things easier. You know that.” 

“Really?” He chuckled. “Doesn’t seem it.” 

“Did you ever stop to think...maybe I wanted you here because, yeah, I love my family but they’re a lot sometimes. Overbearing and overprotective and there’s no privacy and everyone knows everyone’s business.” 

“Great,” he quipped, looking away. 

“But with you...none of that matters.” 

Gendry waited a beat, before exhaling in concession. “Fine.” 

Arya’s face lit up. “Fine what?” 

Another sigh brushed past his lips. “I’m going to keep my mouth shut and try to make the rest of this weekend go smoothly.” 

“I don’t deserve that. And they certainly don’t. But I appreciate it.” Arya forced a smile, one that Gendry encouraged when he gently gripped her neck and placed a kiss to her forehead. The pair remained lost in one another, drowning in the silence as the steam around them floated and wisped, still searching for an escape. They didn’t kiss, but their mouths remained close, breathing one another in. It was as if they were pretending they were somewhere else: back in their tiny flat in Harrenhal, with its plain white walls and cold bathroom floors.

A knock sounded, pulling both out of their reverie. Instantly Gendry tensed, but Arya put a hand to his shoulder, begging that he remain in the moment they’d created until she was fit to return. “One minute!” she called out. 

“Arya! I’d like your help for dinner,” her mother’s voice called back, muffled by the thick mahogany door. 

“Alright! One second!” 

Turning back to Gendry, Arya smiled. It was the last thing he saw before the force of her kiss had his eyes fluttering shut. The hand she had pressed to his shoulder moved down, cupping his bicep, while her other hand ghosted to his back, feeling his skin warm and damp beneath her touch, his mere presence a tease.

“Go,” Gendry finally whispered, causing both of them to look up.

Arya complied but she was hesitant to separate from him. Her hand was raised behind her, still latched with his own until finally the steps separating them were too much. Arya let his fingertips float away as the chill near the bathroom door slipped in, reminding her of their reality.

Without apology she swung open the door. It was an invitation for all of the steam to escape. With it, the illusion of Arya, alone, was replaced by the vision of Gendry, his hand curled around the terrycloth of the towel on his hips. 

Their boldness had Catelyn speechless. “Arya?” 

Unfazed, Arya smiled. “You wanted help?”

~!~

By the time Arya returned from her own shower, Gendry had disappeared. She dressed, dried her hair, and even put on a bit of makeup: just mascara and tinted lip balm, but enough of a change from her usually fresh face for anyone to notice she’d made the extra effort. She spent the time, clasping her necklace and carefully threaded her earrings to contemplate that maybe he’d truly vanished. Arya couldn’t blame him; she wanted to run too. 

Appearing downstairs, Arya heard a football game playing in the den, and with it the loud shouts of her male family members. It was a momentary distraction and soon the smell of brown sugar was luring her toward the kitchen where the oven light revealed a browning Christmas ham. 

“Where’s Sansa? Can’t she help?”

Cat looked to her daughter, her voice already lacking patience. “She lives here, Arya. She helps every night.” 

Arya walked to the pantry, instinctively wrapping the apron she grabbed around her waist as she made her way toward her mother. The marble island separated them and Arya watched, waiting for instructions. When none came, she asked what her mother needed help with and as if being bothered, she suggested that Arya begin plating all of the side dishes. Arya complied, thankful her mother realized she’d be useless doing much else.

Holiday music filled the silence, mixing with the warmth from the oven when Cat finally removed the ham. Arya was careful in her actions, moving vegetables from their baking sheets onto the china her mother had set out. When she was done, she took time to wipe at the rims of each dish, ensuring everything looked flawless. It was only their family that would be attending the meal and the Stark matriarch still insisted on perfection. 

“Arya?” Catelyn called, refusing to look up from her task of cutting the ham into thin, even slices.

“Huh?”

“Can we talk?”

Arya was relieved she wasn’t being asked to help with something as precious as the main course but a different level of dread settled in, replacing her girlhood fears with more current ones. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean...sure.” 

Cat set down the knife and turned around. “I want…” She inhaled sharply before breathing out again. “You have to be careful, Arya. I know you’re young and I know how things can seem but boys—“ 

“Men.” 

Cat blinked. “Excuse me?” 

“Well I assume you’re talking about Gendry and Gendry’s a man.” 

“Yes, I suppose he is.” 

“And if he had a good job or came from a well known family we wouldn’t be having this discussion.” 

“Arya, you’re twenty-one. We absolutely would.” 

“What I’m saying, mum, is that our relationship would be easier for you to stomach!” 

“My daughter and her half naked boyfriend? I don’t think so.” 

“Whatever,” Arya huffed before turning back to her task. 

“Tell me you’re being safe, Arya. Tell me—“ 

“We are not having this discussion.” 

“Arya!” 

She spun around again. “Yes, alright? Of course I am! God, do you ask Sansa the same things?” 

It must have been the reaction Catelyn wanted, not because Arya confirmed her maturity but because in doing so, it somehow had her conceding to her mother. Feeling like she was back in control, Catelyn picked up the knife again and dug back into the carmelized ham. She shook her head for good measure. “Sansa has made it very clear that she intends to wait until her wedding night to...” 

A cackle cut her off. Arya stood by the archway now, ready to bring out a two of the serving dishes. Her head was dropped back, as giggles continued to seep out.

“Do you have something to say, Arya?”

“No, mother. Other than the fact that you’ve made it very clear you’re delusional.”

~!~

They were silent for the remainder of the meal preparation, only speaking when Catelyn had an instruction for Arya. Not wanting to create any more tension, Arya obeyed, carrying on emotionlessly for fear of prompting any more scolding. She was older now, and this return home had been nothing more than what she expected. She didn’t know why she was surprised, and perhaps she wasn’t. If anything, Arya ventured, she was just sad for Gendry, and mourning the hope she’d mustered when she originally invited him and thought for just a second that things would be different. 

When Catelyn confirmed that everything was ready, Arya removed her apron and went out to the dining room. Everyone was seated, even Gendry, who looked handsome in a starched powder blue button-up. He smelled good too, the scent of her aftershave tickling Arya’s nose as she went to him and sat at his side. In return, Gendry gave her the same smile she’d shown him, one that grew when she placed a kiss to his cheek. The pair failed to exist with the majority for just a moment before Robb spoke up.

“What is that?”

With wide eyes, Arya turned to her brother. “What?”

“He means the skirt,” Bran pointed out. “You’re wearing a skirt.”

Arya looked down, almost forgetting what she’d dressed herself in. “Oh. Yeah.”

“And...is that lipstick?” Rickon added. He chuckled before pulling apart a roll and placing a piece in his mouth to chew. 

“Congrats, Gendry,” Sansa jested, “you’ve gotten Arya to admit she’s a girl.” 

Arya looked to Gendry, her brow furrowed. She was searching for words and for a moment Gendry thought she might apologize. With a hand curled to her thigh, he stopped her. The moment fizzled when he refused to answer them, devoting his time instead to sipping at his Black IPA and caressing Arya’s knee through the tights she wore.

Ned and Cat joined them moments later, oblivious to the tension that existed at the table as if it hadn’t been present just that morning, or during any of the other meals Gendry had shared with them. They said grace, began to pass the ham, and started a conversation about local politics. The couples in the room managed smalltalk between themselves, giving Gendry and Arya permission to do the same. Their discourse was lighter, sprinkled with laughter that only encouraged their oblivion. It was wishful thinking but for a moment both pretended that they were back in Harrenhal eating takeaway in sweatpants on the same couch they’d fallen asleep on so many times before. Gendry didn’t know how the girl he loved so ardently was the same girl he sat beside now. He couldn’t imagine this place raising her, molding her to the brilliant, fearless woman she was. Then again, he had certainly survived worst, and she loved him just the same. 

The pair was pulled from their conversation by Arya’s father, inquiring about Arya’s summer plans.

“Oh, I’m going to stay in Harrenhal, I think.”

Ned raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Well, yeah, I—”

“I thought you completed your summer course requirements, Arya,” Cat recalled. Meanwhile, everyone’s eyes ping-ponged between the couples while Arya’s hands curled around the cushion of the chair she sat upon. 

“I did. I just thought I’d get a job. There’s a youth program that specializes in helping children from—”

“What?” Sansa coughed out. 

Arya’s vision narrowed. “Did I stutter?”

“Arya, there are plenty of volunteer opportunities here in Winterfell. Don’t you want to come home? Why stay in Harrenhal?”

“Uh, because that’s where Gendry will be? Because that’s essentially where my life is?”

“Darling, you can visit. Gendry’s more than welcome to come here.”

“No,” Arya rejected firmly. “I’ll be in Harrenhal for the summer. Our lease isn’t up until August so—”

“What?”

Gendry’s eyes widened. He felt Arya’s body tense beneath his touch. “I...what?”

“You said  _ our _ lease,” Sansa pointed out. She sipped at her wine before putting the glass down. “This just keeps getting better and better…”

“I—”

“Arya?” Cat stated plainly. “Are you and Gendry living together?”

“I…” She looked to him, horror-stricken, and finding it difficult to speak. “We…”

“Arya, what are you thinking?”

“I’m…” She blinked and shook her head. “I’m thinking, mother, that it was stupid for both of us to be paying rent on separate apartments when we were with eachother all the time anyway.”

“Arya…” Ned warned, mostly for his daughter’s benefit.

“You know what?” Arya exhaled. “Fuck it! Yes, I live with Gendry. I have for over a year now. I didn’t tell anyone just like I didn’t tell anyone that we’ve been dating for almost two years. Our anniversary is next month, actually. This isn’t new. I didn’t just decide to bring him home on a whim. I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time now but I knew all of you would react this way. But I’m sick of hiding so there it is. We’re dating and we live together and that’s that. I’m an adult and I’d really like to be treated like one. I mean, you wonder why I don’t come home? This is why! I’m not Arya Underfoot anymore! I’m not a child! I’m a person with thoughts and feelings and dreams. If I can’t be who I am here, and that includes being a girl that is very in love with someone, then I don’t want to come. In making Gendry feel unwelcome, you’ve done the same to me. You’ve all made it so unbelievably hard to call Winterfell home lately. So excuse me for keeping secrets! I like my life back in Harrenhal because it’s  _ my _ life. So I’m sorry if it seems insane that that’s where I want to spend my summer but that’s where my home is. With Gendry. In our stupid flat in that nothing town.” She was breathless, but blind to the fact. “Got it?” 

Arya pushed away from the table and abruptly stood up, nearly knocking her chair over in the process. She tossed down her napkin and looked only to Gendry, a sincere pout of apology etched across her features before she turned and trudged out of the room. Steam continued to rise from her half-eaten meal as all of the table’s remaining occupants shared awkward glances.

“Gendry, I’m sorry if—”

“Don’t be,” he said firmly before returning to his food.

“I only thought...it’s just that—”

He snapped his head up. “Don’t apologize to me. I’m sorry if this offends you, but I don’t care. I’ve made it a long time without a family and I’ll be fine. But Arya...she loves you guys. A lot. And she has been beating herself up over this for months now. She wanted me to come last year but...well, it doesn’t matter now. You guys don’t have to like me. But if you could at least pretend, for her sake, I’d appreciate it. Because I don’t have a family but I have Arya and I don’t know what I’m going to do if she has to choose between me or you.”

Sansa looked up. “Well, I mean, if that’s her choice then—”

“No,” Gendry dismissed. “You think I’m worried she’d choose you? No. I know she won’t. I know she’d choose me. And it would kill her. So please, hate me, but let’s be civil, alright? Unless you’re fine losing Arya...which I know you’re not. And I don’t want that for her either.” 

When he pushed away from the table he did so with less anger. Gendry was calm — almost too calm — as he pushed his chair back in and carried his plate and cup in to the kitchen. He knew Arya needed her space so he paced for several moments, deciding where he should go, trying to remember where his options were even located. Finally, he made his way out onto the deck, where the blustery chill of the night didn’t seem to bother him the way it had when he first arrived. 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked out onto the valley where the village below appeared only in blurs of streetlights and stoplights. Christmas lights on houses shone in red and green and white, distracting Gendry from the noise of the sliding glass door opening and shutting behind him. Before he could say anything, Ned was standing at his side, offering up a half-filled lowball glass. 

Gendry looked to the amber colored liquid and took the cup. He sniffed it: Johnnie Walker, his favorite because Arya had bought a bottle of it for his birthday once, and after they’d argued about its cost he found himself in love with the taste. Now Gendry knew why; it was Ned’s favorite too.

“You alright?”

Gendry looked to Ned, paused, then turned back to the blue horizon. “Yeah. Fine,” he assured, before taking a swig of his drink. “I’m not apologizing.”

“Good. I’m not here for an apology.” 

Ned chuckled, ready to continue, but Gendry interjected. “You know, why don’t you stick up for Arya? Before we came she said that you—” 

“I don’t need to stick up for Arya. Arya can stick up for herself.” 

“Of course she can but—“ 

“She can stick up for herself but I imagine it gets tiring. I wish she hadn’t walked away. I’m sure she would have been quite pleased to have you stick up for her.” 

“Well...” 

Ned looked out to the valley too. “It seems you know more about her than we do.” 

“I’d like to think I do.” 

He turned to Gendry. “What do you think she’d say?” 

“You’d have to ask her.” 

“I will,” Ned promised softly. “But what do  _ you _ think?” 

“I know she’d agree.” Pleased with Gendry’s answer, Ned turned away again. He was smiling, content with a silence that was even foreign to him, as he sipped at his whisky. Then: “I want to marry your daughter.” 

Ned chuckled. “That’s brave.” 

“I won’t apologize for that either.” 

“No, I wouldn’t ask you to. I meant...you saw all of this and you still want in?” 

Gendry laughed too. “I don’t know how much Arya told you...” 

“Enough.” 

“I didn’t grow up with a family. Foster families, sure. But not actually families. Not a family of my own. I’m used to having to stick up for myself. And I’ll defend Arya until I die...even though, no, she doesn’t need me to. And someday I’ll stick up for our kids. It’s who I am.” 

“Arya told me.”

Gendry’s vision blurred. “Which part?” 

“She said you were a good man. She’s right. I mean, I got the same impression when we met but—” 

“Oh.“ 

“Do you have a ring?” 

Gendry sipped at his drink and shook his head as he swallowed. “No. Not yet. I’ve been saving up though. Practically since the day I met her.” 

“How long do I have then? To give you your answer?” 

“Some days I think I’m just going to spit it out and ask her.” 

“No ring?” 

“No ring,” Gendry confirmed simply. “Not on one knee. Just... _ here’s your coffee, do you want to get married? _ Or,  _ No, I don’t want to watch the Avengers again, do you want to get married? _ ” 

Ned laughed, but Gendry wasn’t phased. He was still lost in the dream of Arya, in a place that was anywhere but Winterfell, agreeing to marry him. 

“I know we’re young...”

“Cat and I were young too. I think when you know, you know.” Gendry went silent and Ned considered the cause. “She means well, you know...Cat. It probably doesn’t seem that way but she is the way she is because she loves Arya more than you can imagine. She just...she wants different things for her. She’ll come around.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Maybe...does Arya know? Have you talked about a wedding or—“ 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Okay, well—“ 

“We just talk about the future. Forever, yknow?” 

Ned laughed again. “Alright then.” Gendry reminded him of his best friend Robert. Brave, stubborn, almost foolhardy. 

“I know it seems soon. Honestly we can skip the church and the party. I just want the world to know she’s with me. That she chose me.” 

“After that display at the table, I think the world knows. At least we do, and for Arya I think that’s enough. And Arya wasn’t exactly shy about proving that, either.” 

“Right...” 

Ned inhaled. “Listen Gendry. I just think everyone needs time. This was a lot for them...for Cat especially. I will absolutely give you my blessing but maybe we can wait for a bit?” 

It was Gendry’s turn to laugh. “I’m not asking for your blessing.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Do you think I’d still have balls if Arya knew I asked someone else for permission to marry her?” 

Ned looked out to the sky, pondering. He shook his head, a grin tugging at his cheeks. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” 

“I love your daughter. And I know she loves me. And she loves her family too so I’m just trying to figure out a way for all of this to work.” He delivered the sentiment to the sky, almost forgetting Ned was standing by his side. With it, the last of the scotch slid easily down his throat, warming his bones.

“It’ll work,” Ned assured with a tap to Gendry’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I know. At least I hope so.” He set his empty cup down on the wooden ledge. “I’ll love her either way.”


End file.
